I miss the drunks. The y3lling.
The inhalation of beer and cigarettes
Chased down by ego and godlessness.
How many times
hqve I written to this song,
and never heard beauty once?
Like the sweet pinch of a grapefruit,
before the sunset of sweat,
the same sunset that hailed warfare for boys.
I loved you so much once,
I still do, but you are like mist,
and I am blind.
I miss backstabbers, creeps, catfish,
vampires, crows,
an angel.
When I was young I would screech down the hill
in my toy truck,
plastic chassis a powerhouse,
canary and howling,
I'd crash into the same cherry tree a million times.
Call me Avalanche.
Call me Indisputable.
Call me the Powerhouse.
Call me,
I missed you.
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
I miss the drunks. The y3lling.
The inhalation of beer and cigarettes
Chased down by ego and godlessness.
How many times
hqve I written to this song,
and never heard beauty once?
Like the sweet pinch of a grapefruit,
before the sunset of sweat,
the same sunset that hailed warfare for boys.
I loved you so much once,
I still do, but you are like mist,
and I am blind.
I miss backstabbers, creeps, catfish,
vampires, crows,
an angel.
When I was young I would screech down the hill
in my toy truck,
plastic chassis a powerhouse,
canary and howling,
I'd crash into the same cherry tree a million times.
Call me Avalanche.
Call me Indisputable.
Call me the Powerhouse.
Call me,
I missed you.
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